I think I get it now. For the past year I have been struggling with anger issues towards H. I literally tried everything to help me forgive, counseling, medication, yoga, meditation, exercise. For months and months it seemed I couldn't pry the anger out of me no matter how much I wanted to.I also started getting panic attacks about a year ago. They have become frequent and it has been horrible and terrifying. I knew the causes was years of stress piling up.

It's been 10 years now since I chose to start therapy for my own CSA. I realized after a long time that I was loved. I also realized that I didn't know how to reciprocate this love. I genuinely did love my family but all I could do was hurl anger and judgment at them. I wanted to change and learn to be outwardly loving. I believed with all my heart that if I did someday I would have a wonderful family of my own and be so happy. I would finally be able to give and receive the love we all crave.

Tonight I was lying in bed listening to a guided meditation, trying to fall asleep as is the norm anymore with me. I started seeing picture and memories of me and H, going over the past in my head. I asked myself, "so what is it about this particular guy anyway." (referring to H)my mind answered back. He was the first man I ever truly loved.

In my mind he was the guy from my little girl dreams I hoped to meet someday. The first time I saw him I knew I would marry him. So strange because before that moment I never believed in that type of thing. Though it scared me to death I took a leap of faith and let myself really love him......and he has broken my heart.

Upon this realization I burst into tears and quietly left the bedroom. I need to get this thought out somewhere and it's too late to call anyone I know.

Maybe to anyone who reads this my thoughts don't make much sense. That's okay. I still love my H and he is trying, little by little I see his softer side emerge. I see the man I fell in love with. A man with hands strong enough to build a house yet gentle enough to nurse a baby chick from the brink of death(he did this a few months ago).

In some strange way this was an important realization for me. It's not only that I love him and he hurt me.. It's also about how he has trampled my picture of what I believed life would be like for me. A life I thought I had earned and was entitled too. I life I thought I would be rewarded for all my hard work it therapy. It sounds so silly and juvenile now.

The blend of anger and compassion I feel for H can be confusing. I feel angry about things he has done, and things he cannot do. And yet I also understand why he does them. I feel so much empathy because I can remember feeling so lost and heavy myself. I can remember how lonely it was and how terrifying, the consuming darkness that is CSA survivors life before they are able to switch the light on.

Tonight I've learned a lot about myself. I feel lighter yet humbled a bit. I still have so damn much to learn.

HD - you've really nailed it. You have described exactly what many of us mourn, the loss of what we wanted and hoped for ourselves.

I, like you, have spent hours in therapy trying to work through this stuff. One thing my therapist and our marriage therapist always says to both of us - NOTHING is all one way, or all the other. Nothing is black and white. And for those of us who have suffered abuse, we tend to see the world that way. All good or all bad. So the challenge becomes actually seeing ourselves and our partners for who they really are. A little good and a little bad. A little loving and a little not so loving. Perfectly imperfect, carrying the scars that life has delivered.

I struggle daily with this. I can write it down, but can I live it?

Your husband is sweet and horrific. Your husband is loving when he is connected to you, and destructive and hurtful when he is not, when his pain consumes him. He is both. As you are both.

When we fall in love, we see only what we want to see. That nurtures the black and white thing. We see the possibility of our dreams coming true. The reality it seems is that mature love is knowing all sides of the coin, and still choosing to walk together.

The absolute only way I have made it through some of these dark dark days is to be able to see my husband's actions as NOT PERSONAL. He did not act against me - he acted against himself. I was just really close by. In doing that, I have been able to reduce some of my anger at him (some, not all

And you are allowed to mourn the loss of what you dreamed of, and you are allowed to be sad and angry.

Thanks for validating my feelings. Yes I should let the anger out. I want to so badly. But how?Today I am going to work on my painting. Its a painting of an elk with roses around its neck. It is a symbol of strength and endurance for me. Its very colorful and surreal looking. Maybe I could do a painting about my anger? I'm just so lonely and confused. I'm really glad that I have this place for support on the hard days.

Your painting sounds great, and finding something that symbolizes how you feel that you can paint sounds even better. Can you take a photo of it and post it as your avatar when you're done? I for one would love to see it. Take care.

Is your husband a sex addict too? Mine is and I can't tell you the comfort, guidance and friendship I have found in the groups. Like nothing else. It is like we are in the trenches of a battlefield. They are my combat family. Saviours, really! No one in my life could possibly understand what it is like to be a wife of a sex addict. I thank God everyday for the other wives in my group.

Also, HD, my husband is an Intimacy Anorexic, Sexual Anorexic which is a part of his sex addiction. I can't talk about this shit with anyone but my group. I would be so isolating. You can pm me anytime if you want.

how did i deal with my murderous rage throughout the years? (without leaving a trail of bodies behind)

music, heavy music.

i used to plug in my guitar, put on the headphones, and blast away for hours. no one could hear but me, so i could play absolutely anything i wanted, as loud as i wanted, as noisy as i wanted. (i ended up becoming pretty good)

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long long lonely walks.

i am talking hundreds and hundreds of hours and miles by myself, through all kinds of landscapes. cities, mountains, seashores, forests, jungles, highways, deserts, railroads.

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angry prayer.

curse the creator. give it all up to god. shake my fist at the sky.

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there were other coping strategies and techniques, but i will not recommend them to anyone. those methods only compounded damage.

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